


Still Fucked Up (But Aren't We All My Love?)

by shield_maiden



Series: Harringrove [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy's POV, Choking, I suppose its less non-con and more under negotiated kinks, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, specifically the choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 22:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12735774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shield_maiden/pseuds/shield_maiden
Summary: Billy has always had a sick fascination with testing limits. He likes pushing things and people, until he feels them splinter under the pressure, and he can see where the cracks have formed and the bone shards peeking out.He’s tested his fathers, pushing Neil until the push-back came around again and knocked him for six. He’s tested Max, riling her with the antagonising of her precious friends until she’d sunk the needle into his neck and pressed down on the plunger, turning everything a kind of sedated-slur-his-words hazy. He doesn’t push her anymore.He hadn’t met anything that he can’t break. Or so he thought.Until Harrington.





	Still Fucked Up (But Aren't We All My Love?)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Rainbow by Kesha.  
> Inspired somewhat loosely by this tumblr post: http://barryqueen.tumblr.com/post/167154766038/darkish-harringrove  
> Cross posted to my tumblr @crimson--petrichor

Billy has always had a sick fascination with testing limits. He likes pushing things and people, until he feels them splinter under the pressure, and he can see where the cracks have formed and the bone shards peeking out.

He’s tested his fathers, pushing Neil until the push-back came around again and knocked him for six. He’s tested Max, riling her with the antagonising of her precious friends until she’d sunk the needle into his neck and pressed down on the plunger, turning everything a kind of sedated-slur-his-words hazy. He doesn’t push her anymore.

He pushes the limit of the Camaro, but that’s more for the joy and adrenaline of feeling the engine roar through the floor like a beast freed from its cage as he speeds down the Hawkins back roads blaring AC/DC as loud as the sound system will go. He doesn’t truly want to break this limit, doesn’t want to watch the car crash and burn, figuratively or literally, so he stops right on the teetering edge and enjoys it.

He hadn’t met anything that he can’t break. Or so he thought.

Until Harrington.

The very first time they’d faced each other on the basketball court, Billy had known that he wanted to break Steve Harrington apart into a million tiny pieces.

But it turns out that Harrington is much, much harder to break than Billy had realised at the time.

(Partly because he’s _already_ broken, in all the ways that Billy can’t see and doesn’t understand.)

He’d tried the usual plays of being a cocky mother fucker, brash and loud, getting right up in Steve’s face as much as he can, throwing out jabs about the other boy’s miserable love life, but he doesn’t even begin to crack. He just sighs and rolls his eyes and it makes Billy see red.

He punches Steve, beats the living shit out of him really. Multiple times. The Byers’ kitchen was really only the first round of this particular tactic. They come to blows over almost anything, and sometimes, it’s just because Billy wants to punch something and Steve has a _very_ punchable face and is just _there_ —and it’s definitely got nothing to do with the fact that Steve looks so fucking good the next day with the skin along his jaw black and blue from Billy’s fists.

When they fuck, its a continuation of how they fight. Or rather, how Billy fights. It’s fast and rough and hard. He just takes and takes and takes until Steve is left with only more bruises and disheveled hair and bitten lips. They don’t kiss. Ever.

He pushes Steve further than he’s ever pushed anyone, and he thinks, maybe, that Steve _likes_ it. Likes being pushed and treated like dirt. And he tells the other boy as much one day, while he’s balls deep in him, thrusting with a punishing pace.

“Fuck, you really like this don’t you Harrington?” He’d panted, not willing to disrupt the rhythm he has going. He punctuates his next words with a slap to Steve’s ass, enjoying the way he shudders and moans beneath him. “You really like it when I’m rough don’t you, Princess?” 

One day he gets his hand around the other boy’s throat as they fuck. He knows its risky, but fuck he can’t help it. He starts applying pressure and feels the throb of Steve’s pulse under his fingers beating erratically as Billy restricts his air supply. He doesn’t miss the way it makes the other boyjust that extra little bit more pliant even as he thrashes around weakly. He wants to see if this will finally be what breaks Steve. 

(It won’t be because Steve is already broken, and has been for months, he barely remembers to eat, he doesn’t remember the last time he slept properly —he gets a few hours of restful sleep after Billy fucks him, but its short lived and never enough— and he feels like a hollowed out shell of his former self. But with the other boys hand around his throat or in his hair or leaving bruises on his hips he feels the most at peace he’s felt in so _so_ long. It’s like something in him quiets and he can just be and just get lost in the sensations instead of being anxious-sad-deppressed-utterlyfuckingterrified on an endless loop. But it will be one of the best orgasms either of them have ever had.)

He expects Harrington to cave, like a floor giving way beneath him. But it never comes. 

And then one day everything changes.

Billy can’t exactly pin point the moment that pushing Steve stopped being fun. But all he knows is that theres this ache in his chest that won’t go away, no matter how fucking debauched Steve looks with his eyes watering as he deep-throats Billy’s dick like a pro and tries to stay balanced on his knees with his hands bound behind his back with Billy’s leather belt. And instead of wanting to rough the other teen up and have his way with him, he finds him self just wanting to touch.

It throws him for a god damn loop the first time he realises that that’s what he wants to do to Steve. They’re in Econ, and Steve is in the seat in front of him, his head bent forward and Billy can see the sliver of pale skin between his hair and the collar of his fucking pastel monstrosity of a polo. Billy’s finger itch to reach out and ghost themselves over the spot, to touch gently, skin on skin. The realisation startles him so much he almost falls out of his chair in shock.

He tries to shake it off. He really does. Because he’s Billy Hargrove. And Billy Hargrove does _not_ do gentle or sweet, and he definitely doesn’t do _feelings_. Especially not with faggots like Steve Harrington.

So he keeps fucking Steve as rough and hard as ever, chokes him out, slaps him around. But the feeling won’t go away no matter how hard he fucks him or how hard he tries shove it deep into the back of his mind.

So one day, he tries it.

They’re in the back seat of the Camaro, Steve’s face buried in his crotch, sucking him off like he was born to do it. It’s wet and hot and so _filthy_. Billy can’t help himself as he brings his hand to the back of Steve’s head, brushing his hair back and just holding him in place gently as he thrusts into the other boys mouth until he comes. 

Steve pulls off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Billy sits there trying to catch his breath, his hand slipping from the back of Steve’s head to his shoulder.

Slowly, he brings his hand up to brush that one lock of Steve’s hair out of his face, and lightly runs the tips of his fingers over the other boy’s cheekbones.

Steve goes still, and watches him warily, so many questions in his eyes. Billy braces himself, expecting Steve to yell at him, tell him to go fuck himself and storm out of the car, leaving a gaping hole in his chest.

But he doesn’t. Instead he crumples further to the floor, his head bowing as Billy feels hot tears under his fingers as the other boy’s shoulders shake with sobs.

It’s wholly unexpected, and vaguely uncomfortable for a brief moment. But then Steve looks up at him through wet eyelashes and Billy feels something inside himself give way. He tucks himself back into his jeans and goes to move, to make room for Steve on the seat instead of leaving him kneeling in the foot well of the car, and Steve clutches at him, almost panic stricken, until Billy soothes him by linking their fingers and helping him up into the now unoccupied space.

He’s surprised when Steve almost plasters himself to his side, still sniffling quietly. They don’t speak. Deep down, Billy knows that he hasn’t broken Steve Harrington, but maybe he can fix him.

Maybe they can fix each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments make my day!  
> Come hang with me on tumblr @crimson--petrichor!


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